


I Walk

by hecklesyeah



Series: I Walk The Line [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6199639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecklesyeah/pseuds/hecklesyeah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Agent Hill and Captain America first meet, it's not all rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers; it's tension, and not the good kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i keep a close watch on this heart of mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First attempt at anything Marvel; I hope you like it. Maria Hill is awesome and underappreciated; I hope I do her justice. And Captain Hill shippers (and writers, good god) are amazing; I hope this makes you happy because this is for you.

* * *

Maria Hill loves her job. In fact, if love were measured according to the time one allotted for something, then one can say that she doesn’t just love it; she’s beyond in love. But those petty notions are of no matter to her. She simply feels a certain satisfaction at seeing SHIELD’s efforts come into fruition, considering how well she does her job — and she’s _damn good_ at her job if she says so herself.

It’s been difficult to breathe, both literally and figuratively, in the aftermath of the Battle of New York. Things have only just begun to settle down and achieve some semblance of order. Clean-up, reconstruction, and civilian rehabilitation efforts are underway to get as close to how New York was before the Chitauri Invasion. Fortunately, Stark Industries has volunteered to assist in such matters.

Anyway, in her line of work, the only pressing caveat is the politics that comes with it, especially with ungrateful and incompetent sexist bastards at the helm of most governments as well as private security and intelligence agencies. However, she believes it’s a small price to pay for world security. That said, Maria considers dealing with the likes of Ms. Virginia Potts — there are none quite like Ms. Potts, to be honest — a delight.

“Once again, SHIELD thanks you for the significant contribution of Stark Industries after the crisis, Ms. Potts.” She exits the elevator into the floor of her office with her phone tucked between her left ear and shoulder as her fingers move deftly across the tablet she’s holding.

“Pepper, then. And—” She stops by the window, seemingly admiring the view, and doesn’t notice the figure seated by one of the darker corners of the common room. “I was watching when Iron Man and the missile—” She straightens up, clips her tablet in her arm, and takes her phone in her hand. “I can imagine. Well, I’m sure you can find a way to tell Mr. Stark without further inflating his ego.”

A small smile appears briefly on her face before she purses her lips, “Yes... We worked together closely. He is—” She clears her throat and looks down, “ _was_ a friend.” When she looks back up towards the skyline, she has a bitter smile on her face. “He did. And on top of that, he got to meet his favorite costumed hero from the 40s.”

A shrill sound from her tablet has her checking it and saying, “I’m sorry, Ms. Potts, but I have to go… Pepper, right… Yes, and you do the same.” With that she ends the call and focuses her attention on her tablet. She taps the earpiece on her right ear and says, “Yes, I will be there shortly.” Tap. When she turns to head to her office, she’s interrupted by the figure now standing a few feet from her.

“A costumed hero from the 40s?”

She turns to the voice and sees none other than Captain America himself in a rather loose plaid shirt and slacks with a brown leather jacket, his outfit not very different from the time she saw him on the helicarrier. She could only imagine the number of grandpa jokes he’d received for it; not that anyone would dare mock him, except Stark, maybe. “ _Of course, it just had to be him,_ ” she thinks to herself and resists the urge to roll her eyes as she meets his gaze _._ “It's not personal, Captain. I don't know you outside of your file.”

He takes two steps closer to her until he, too, is standing by the window. “I’ve read my file; there isn't much else outside of it.”

She’s not sure what the purpose of this visit is so she keeps her guard up as usual and studies him. “Sometimes what's real and what's on paper don't correspond.”

“No.” He knows her reputation of being a little too by the book; others say it’s to a fault. But with that statement, his level of respect for her rises. “They don’t.” What’s on paper is merely a representation of reality; it cannot fully encompass the real thing.

She’s aware that his intense gaze means he’s studying her as well so she makes sure she gives nothing away. “Which is why in cases like the Battle of New York, it's important to know how to improvise and when to take calculated risks.”

“Is that what the Avengers were?” He’s frowning now; it seems the national icon wears his heart on his sleeve. “An improvisation? A calculated risk?”

She looks down at her tablet once again and briefly types in a message before locking it. “The Initiative was one of Director Fury's pet projects. He weighed the pros and cons…” She trails off and meets his gaze again with pursed lips. “He believed it was a necessary response to the Chitauri invasion.”

“And you?” His eyes narrow a bit as he continues to stare.

She juts her chin out a bit and says with a clear voice and a firm tone. “I was against it.” What was that she said about not giving anything away?

“So we're just that then?” His frown deepens. “Just a risk?” Her non-response says too much. It comes across as a challenge to him and he begins to feel a bit defensive. “Well, it paid off, didn't it?”

She’s aware that upsetting the applecart would work against what Fury aims to achieve with the Initiative but the Captain was asking for it. Besides, Fury has always known that she’s not the type to stay quiet unless it was a direct order. “At the expense of what? Independence? Self-preservation?” She’s not prepared for this conversation and consequently starts to feel the irritation creeping up the back of her neck. “Not only did you give _ordinary_ human beings something to _depend_ on, you also made them complacent in a false sense of security.”

He takes a step back as his frown shifts from mildly offended to extremely confused in a matter of milliseconds. It would’ve been amusing if his naiveté about the bigger picture weren’t so irritating. “A _false_ sense of—”

“You may have saved the world from those alien invaders but we also know that you could very well level the city.” She scoffs before she continues, “Hell, even the world if you wanted to.” She shakes her head once but meets his gaze and in a firm voice, says, “So when the source of this _salvation_ comes with a great potential for destruction? No. For me, you're not _just a risk_ ; you're a threat.”

And just like that, he feels himself recoil, deflate, almost as if someone punched the air out of his lungs. And he supposes, yes, Agent Hill may as well have. He wants to argue that the Avengers would never do such a thing but the fact that he’s never thought of it that way stops him and his surprise leaves him unable to respond.

“But then again, the opinion of one woman pales in comparison to those of the rest of the world.” Silence ensues as she straightens up once more and nods, “Captain.” She then turns and makes her way to her office.

He doesn’t follow but before the door closes, he calls out to her, “Agent Hill.”

She turns halfway and reaches her hand out to stop the door from closing completely. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She blinks. She isn’t sure how to respond to that so she just gives him an almost imperceptible nod before she lets go of the door. When it finally closes, the pained expression on his face is the last thing she sees from the other side.


	2. i keep my eyes wide open all the time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verbal isn't the only means of communication. Sometimes nonverbal is just as important if not more, especially when it tastes good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an outline of how this story and series would unfold length-wise but I'm not sure about the time factor. I hope to post at least once a week since I have a portion of the following chapters drafted but I'm having trouble determining if the whole story is cohesive and if the characters are consistent. I'm sure I'll figure it out somehow; I mean, I have to before CA:CW comes out on April (did u guys see that trailer??? good lord).
> 
> Just a little disclaimer: As much as I enjoy (?) angst, I'm a sucker for keeping my OTPs happy. I hope that works for you too. Good day!

* * *

“Agent Hill.”

She pauses in her stride to address the person who called her attention. “Captain Rogers.” She tries not to notice how different he looks from the last time she spoke with him. She fails, of course, because his jacket is draped over one arm and shirts should not be that tight; not to mention the well-fitted dark jeans make him seem much taller than he already is. Wanting nothing more than to get this over with, Maria resumes walking and gets to the point. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes.” The Captain nods and gives her a small smile, still unsure how to tread the waters around the Deputy Director. She glances at him with an eyebrow slightly raised. “Yes, uh, may I walk with you?” She nods and gestures ahead to indicate the affirmative so he continues, “I wanted to talk to you.”

He sees her check her watch and is about to apologize but she beats him to it. “I have a meeting at 1300; you have 32 minutes.”

“Bagel?” He offers as he nods and extends the arm holding the bagel toward her. He bites back a laugh when he sees her eyeing the bagel like it’s offended her somehow. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen someone glare so hard at a piece of bread and it makes him smile. “It's cream cheese.” Her brow twitches before both furrow as her gaze moves up to his, narrows, then goes back to the bagel. Still, she says nothing. “We can split it.”

This time, she looks at her tablet and says, “I suspect the whole thing won't even be enough for you.”

“That's,” he pauses before he concedes. “True, but I've already had lunch and I don't have a meeting at 1300.”

She nearly huffs, “Alright.” Then she stops, crosses her arms, and faces him. “What do you want?”

There’s a beat where the hand offering the bagel floats awkwardly between them before he pulls back and looks her straight in the eyes. “I'm here to ask for an assignment, Ma’am, a permanent one.”

“ _Nothing is permanent._ ” She brushes the thought away before gesturing for them to continue walking. “I understand your need to feel useful.” At this, Steve thinks he should feel offended somehow but oddly enough, he isn’t. “You're a valuable asset and I'm sure having Captain America under SHIELD's employment would be favorable for Director Fury.”

“I don't disagree with that.”

“And I don't see the director turning that offer down.”

“Neither do I.” He clears his throat. “But I'm not asking him,” he slows down and waits for her to match his steps before he looks at her intently. “I’m asking you.”

If he notices the slight falter in her steps, he doesn’t comment on it, especially since he can see her studying him with a sideways glance. “Why?”

He looks down before facing forward. “The last time we talked, you said you believed we were a risk, a threat even.” Then he looks back at her. “Do you still believe that?”

“I have no reason to change my position on the matter.”

He nods, “Fair enough. But it's also fair to give us— me, a chance to convince you otherwise, Ma'am.”

She barely stops a scoff when she looks away. “By asking to work for SHIELD?”

“By asking to work with you.”

“I'm afraid I've gone past the field agent-handler status, Captain.” Her smile is sardonic, slightly patronizing, as she returns her gaze to the tablet in her hands.

“Then put me somewhere you can monitor my every move.”

This catches her attention and makes her turn to him with an eyebrow raised, almost as if to challenge him. “Anywhere?”

He shakes his head once before answering, “Anywhere you see fit. I'm asking the favor so I shouldn't complain.” Then, he watches her slow down further to a complete stop, skepticism written all over her face.

“You want a chance to prove that you're not a threat and you want it on my terms? Most people would find that intimidating, unsettling.”

“I guess I'm not most people.”

If he didn’t seem so damn humble and earnest, she’d think he was being arrogant. Regardless, she can’t help the sarcasm that drips into her response as she crosses her arms. “Yeah, well, ‘most people’ are not Captain America.”

“They're not the Deputy Director of SHIELD either.” He puts his hands behind his back and looks pointedly at her.

“ _And Captain America counters sarcasm with sincerity. Of course._ ” She hums. “And it is for that reason that you won't be working with me. At least not directly.” With arms still crossed confidently, she adds, “Besides, if I wanted to know what you were up to, I could find out. Easily.” She walks away then, leaving him a bit baffled and impressed, more so when he realizes the bagel is gone.

\- - -

That night, Maria receives an email that Captain America starts SHIELD work on Monday and mutters, “Figured.” She locks her tablet and pulls the covers up to her chest.

She goes to work the next day and finds a brown paper bag with two standard sticky notes; the first one reading, “I want to say you owe me one but if you have this for lunch, we’re even.” and the second one, “I won’t offer to split it anymore.” with a doodle of the bagel he offered her the last time. She opens the bag and finds what she thinks and, a few minutes later, confirms as chicken pot pie, still warm and fresh. She’s a few hours short of lunch time but he doesn’t need to know that.

\- - -

His first mission out is to assist in the extraction of any recoverable data and evacuation of any unaccounted for civilians and other casualties. On the eve of his mission, he’s on his way to his quarters, silently praying it becomes a rescue mission instead of recovery.

The doors open and he notices something amiss; on the desk beside his go-bag is a brown paper bag. He picks it up and reads the note, “I stole one; you gave another. I always pay my debts in full.” He opens the bag and inside, he finds two small, similarly wrapped items with the bigger one labeled “Tourtiere du Shack” and the other “Impastata Ricotta Cheese Cannoli, for after”.

He can’t help the smile on his face as he takes out the former and starts digging in. It is only after his fourth bite that he blurts, “How did she even—” and then remembers she is the Deputy Director of the organization currently housing him and he _did_ get into her office without her permission. “Touché, Agent Hill,” shaking his head as he wonders when she got the time to get these for him.

He’s wolfed down the pie and is about to finish one of the cannoli when he glimpses the label again, “for after”. It takes him a couple of seconds to decide that since ‘after’ wasn’t clearly defined, she could’ve meant a lot of different things like ‘after...the pie’, or ‘after...the mission’. And if she meant the latter and he interpreted the former, he thinks, “ _Well, she doesn’t need to know that._ ” He then proceeds to devour the other.

\- - -

Four missions later and Maria has too many pressing matters on her plate that she’s lost track of when exactly Steve would be back. What clues her in is the brown paper bag that wasn’t on her desk a half hour ago. Attached to it is a note that says, “Since you’re still in your office this late, you probably haven’t even had dinner.” She checks her watch; it’s a few minutes shy of midnight.

She opens the bag and her senses are assaulted by the aroma of cheese and garlic and finds she’s about to have another plateful to work on but this kind, she doesn’t mind much. Or at all. She lays it all out and sees enough quesadilla for at least two meals.

For a brief moment, she wonders if he was meaning to eat half of it. “ _Nah,_ ” because he wouldn’t have left the note if that were the case. As she takes the first bite, she wonders if he’s trying to fatten her up in a subtle way of commenting on her weight. This makes her frown before she decides maybe he’s taken _his_ appetite into consideration instead of hers.  

She’s sporting a small smile as she rolls her eyes and continues eating. If she wraps the rest of the food up and takes it home for breakfast the next day, he doesn’t need to know that either.

\- - -

It’s been a couple of days since Steve returned from his last mission and he’s found he has time — a lot of it now, it seems — so he’s taken to either working out at the SHIELD gym or helping out in training exercises if he weren’t training to acclimate himself more effectively to 21st century technology and warfare.

One day as he’s walking around the mess hall carrying his tray of food, he sees Clint waving at him from a table close to the exit. Steve starts walking in his direction when he notices Clint’s company sitting across from him. His enhanced hearing allows him to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“You see this table?” At his nod, she continues. “You know what it is?”

“It’s round.” Clint rolls his eyes when Maria simply raises an eyebrow. “And yours and no one else’s.”

“Right. So when I sit here,” Maria gestures to the table with her hands, “Everyone knows not to bother me.”

“But I sit here,” he replies and leans forward.

“That’s ‘cause you’re an ass.” She tries to ignore him by focusing on the tablet in front of her but he’s relentless.

“So does Tasha.”

“Nat’s not annoying.” She still refuses to look at him, as if to make her statement more effective. Alas.

“And Phil—”

“Never got away with it with May, so I used to indulge him.” The second half of the sentence is spoken in a softer tone but if either of them notice, neither acknowledge it.

“And— Cap!” This makes her look up.

“Rogers? When did he—”

“Clint. Agent Hill,” comes a voice from behind her.

“I’m guessing that’s ‘now’,” Maria mutters then purses her lips.

Clint’s grin grows even wider. “Why don’t you pull up a chair and join us?”

“Oh. Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“No! Of course not, Cap! You’re always welcome.” Steve looks at Maria who simply waves her hand in his general direction. Once Steve sets his tray and pulls up a chair to Maria’s right, Clint leans back. “Whoa. Sometimes I forget you have quite the appetite.” He exclaims gesturing to Steve’s tray. “Unlike somebody I know.” His gaze then shifts to Maria and then to the untouched calzone beside her tablet.

“Clint—”

“You haven’t touched it since I got here. And I’ve been here long enough for it to have been gone by now. Come on, Maria.”

“Well, I was going to eat it while I was working but you came and started annoying the shit out of me.” Clint loves messing with her and making her inner child come out to play. Most of the times, he’s not successful. But sometimes, _sometimes_ , he is. And it unnerves her. Natasha too, she’s sure; but she’d probably sooner die than admit that to anyone other than Clint.

“Oh. Wow, Hill.” Clint has his arms raised, pretending to be hurt as he stands up. “I’m sorry. I’m leaving now, see?” He starts walking backwards, smirking like he knows something they don’t and it has Maria’s eyes narrowing at his retreating form. “You better make sure she eats, Cap.” He calls out as he’s casually saluting before exiting the mess hall.

Steve gestures with his head in the direction Clint disappeared into. “You heard him.” The corners of his lips curl upwards a little when Maria groans. “Are you gonna finish that?”

Maria just stares at her calzone and eventually says, “It’s cold now.”

Steve blinks. “Would you like me to heat it up for you?”

She looks up at this and says, “I’m sorry?”

“Yours. Mine needs it anyway so, two birds with one stone, right?” He has a shy, crooked smile on as he waits for her answer.

“What?” Although her face remains blank, she feels heat beginning to rise up her neck.

He squashes it when he clarifies, “The calzones. I’ll have them reheated so you can work in peace while you wait.”

“Oh.” She wants to laugh at how badly she’s misinterpreted the situation when it occurs to her that somebody else, let alone Captain America, is having her food heated up for her. She turns her head to tell him she can do it herself but he’s already halfway there, his back turned to her and, “ _My, what a view_.” She shakes her head and mutters, “I need a goddamn break.”

When he returns, he lays her plate in front of her and says, “Eat. And don’t mind me if you have work to do.” He smiles and she nods her answer. They eat in silence, which at first feels awkward, especially when he catches her eyeing one of the chocolate puddings he’s just consumed. He excuses himself, returns with two more, and hands her one. They continue to eat in silence but they find that this time is more comfortable.

These shared lunches happen every few weeks or once a month if their schedules allow it or when neither of them are particularly stressed out. Occasionally, they talk about missions they’re working on together. Other times, when there’s downtime before a debrief or before he leaves whichever country his missions take him to, he’d go on a lunch run for two which everyone just assumes is not even enough for himself.

However, they’re both incredibly busy people that most of the time, he simply leaves the food in her office either at the Triskelion or at the helicarrier and he finds two treats, always fresh, in his quarters when he gets back from every other mission. They never talk about it, not even when they do get to eat together.

It’s their unspoken agreement, their ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loosely based the idea on two friends of mine whose courtship started when they used to think they were being stealthy, exchanging food by sneaking it into the other's bag. I wouldn't say Maria and Steve's relationship at this point is at the stage of courtship but I do believe it's developing into some form of friendship.


	3. i keep the ends out for the tie that binds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anger can be a defense mechanism, either for yourself, for another, or both. Sometimes it just means you care even when you don't want to.

* * *

A few months later, Maria finds herself nearly fuming as she makes her way to the MedBay. “Where's the Captain?”

“I— Inside, Ma'am,” the attendant replies.

He looks up from his seat on the bed when the door opens and sees her. “Lieutenant—”

She takes a deep breath and cuts him off by launching into a tirade. “Captain Rogers, here at SHIELD, we have protocols for dealing with these situations—”

“It wasn't a SHIELD op—” he tries. Alas.

“Regardless, it was a bank robbery. You're with SHIELD; you could've called. You _should've_ called.” She’s angry and he knows it. To any normal person, it would seem like Agent Hill was formally reprimanding him in her usual stoic manner. But anyone who knows her well enough would notice the small crease between her eyebrows, the slight edge in her speech, the minute change in the tone of her voice, and the faint rhythmic sound of her breaths — normally, her silence and stealth allows her to sneak up on anyone, him included, enhanced hearing and all.

He winces and hangs his head. “You found out, huh?” He glances up at her with a sheepish look.

“I always do. Plus, you got shot and your life was on the line, along with 14 others’ so yes, I _found out_.”

“It's just a graze, Hill.” He tries to play it cool but he should’ve known that nothing gets past her.

“The one on your side, sure. What about your shoulder?” He considers lying but when he remembers feeling pain from a simple movement earlier, he decides to keep his mouth shut. “Thought so. I’ve told you before, Rogers, if I wanted to know, I could. Easily and covertly.”

“I'm sure you can. You're great at what you do.” She frowns but he simply smiles and continues. “And 'covertly'... You enjoy being behind the scenes.”

Her eyes narrow further because although they don’t talk about it, she’s sure he’s already picked up on these things a while ago. “I do prefer it, yes.” Then an eyebrow raises. “But don't change the subject.” He sighs. _Bingo_.

“I know that you always want to make sure nothing goes wrong in every project you oversee, agents and assets included.” She didn’t know what she expected from him in response but it certainly wasn’t this. “I appreciate that. I mean, it helps to see your name in mission statements.”

She almost rolls her eyes and gives him the side-eye instead. “My name is on _all_ of your mission statements.”   
  
“Yes, I noticed; I see it every time. You're very thorough.”

“I am.” She crosses her arms and continues, “Wouldn't want anyone coming after me for endangering Captain America. Especially when you already do that well enough on your own.” She gestures then to the bullet wound and sees Rogers’ shy and guilty expression. She huffs, “Look, frankly, I don't care if you have a death wish.” This somehow tastes wrong on her tongue, especially after seeing the hurt look on his face. “I don't mind you veering away from the plan a little as long as you stick to it enough to ensure that everyone involved in a mission or, in this case, a robbery comes back in one piece.”

He knows going against her when she’s all riled up is futile but he feels the need to explain himself. “Agent Hill—” This, coupled with the clench of his jaw, lets her know that he feels a little offended. He’s taken to calling her either Hill or Lieutenant (she thinks it’s because he likes her title, maybe) and only reverts to Agent Hill when they’re at odds, which happens more often than not but rarely regarding missions.

“I'm sure you'd never intentionally put someone else's life in danger so this is not a scolding, _Captain Rogers_.” On her part, she’s taken to calling him Rogers generally, Captain in formal contexts, and Captain Rogers when she’s not particularly happy with him. And as she utters the latter, she realizes that she’s been using it a lot less these days. “It's a reiteration of something you already know. The mission plans, the protocols, the simulations and predictions, the statistics? They all work to lessen the probability of failure, leaving a situation FUBAR. However, I understand that they can't account for the human factor or for other circumstantial factors, which is why you and your handler have leeway to take calculated risks should the need arise. And this situation is no different.”

“I’m aware, and I couldn't have said it any better, _Lieutenant_.” He gives her a pointed look and all of a sudden, all is well and no one’s angry. “I apologize for not calling SHIELD in and for the way I handled the robbery; I acted on pure instinct.” He watches her nod. “I can't promise that it won't happen again.” At this, Maria scoffs and looks away. “But…” He waits for her to look back at him before he continues, “I'll try my best to remember it next time.”

"‘Do or do not; there is no try.’" She sees the confusion in his expression but she gestures for him to go on.

“As I was saying earlier, your name on mission statements gives me a certain sense of,” he pauses as he searches for the right word, “Security. An assurance, if nothing else. I just wanted you to know that your efforts are appreciated, that's all.”

Despite months of occasionally working together, eating together, and exchanging food, she still takes declarations and compliments like this one with a grain of salt. And so, with a blank expression, she deadpans, “Your appreciation, while unnecessary, has been noted. Like I said, no one wants to see America's favorite superhero hurt his pretty little head.” And with that said, she starts turning away from him but stops with his next words.

“I thought you didn't care, Lieutenant?” His voice carries a slightly teasing tone, earning him an unimpressed look and a raised eyebrow.

“I’m forced to when a superhero is being a complete idiot.” She’s just reached the door when he calls out to her.

“Wait!” She pauses but only turns her head sideways to acknowledge him. And it’s a good thing too because his next words catch her completely off guard. “Did you just call me ‘pretty’?”

With her back to him and her hand hovering by the biometrics, she considers taking it back but instead keeps a straight face as she slowly turns back to face him. “I'm not blind, Captain.” She puts on the illusion of distance in the name she uses to address him even as she appraises him. And if she notices him straighten up a little, she makes no comment and just says, “And I won't deny what seems to be a universal truth.”

He feels a little flushed from her compliment and decides to return it, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty too.” He studies her when she doesn’t acknowledge his statement and sees her go on lockdown. He’s unable to read her so he tells her, “You're quite the mystery, Hill.” He sees her head tilt in question and he shakes his head in response. With a lopsided smile, he says, “It was meant as a compliment.”

She stares at him, unsure how to proceed. “Right.” She blinks. “I’ll be on my way then.”

“Of course.” He tries to bite back a grin; he is failing. “Can't have you slacking on the job, Hill.” His grin is now on full display and it earns him an eye-roll.

With the hint of a smile, she leaves but not before she mutters, “Shut up, Rogers.”

As she steps out of the door, she hears him call, “Heads up!”

With a confused frown, she turns in time to catch a brown paper bag. She looks at the bag then at Rogers who’s grinning until the door closes and blocks her view. When she peers into the bag, she sees two cinnamon sugar cheesecake bars, slightly deformed on one side but are still mostly intact.

“Goddamn, Rogers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. This is the last chapter for the first part (The Avengers in the MCU timeline) of this series. The next part (CATWS) will be up in a week. I hope you guys stick around till then. And thank you for all your support!


End file.
